Conflicting Views
by Laerkstrein
Summary: Her reasons for returning seemed simple enough: To ensure that her work had been done properly. However, he has reason to believe that she has an ulterior motive. Companion piece to "You Can't Forget."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Conflicting Views**

**Prompt: **"Though this be madness, yet there be method to it." - William Shakespeare

**A/N: **Follow-up to "You Can't Forget."

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><p>Wretched a place as it was, the human realm now held far more interest for him than Hueco Mundo. The latter was so much a desert now, devoid of any form of intelligent life. All that remained was dust, rubble, and starving hollows, which were far too asinine to bother with. There was no longer any reason for him to even consider going back. Besides, it was ridiculous to have to use Urahara's garganta to gain entry. He wouldn't give the man that satisfaction any longer.<p>

Now, he'd turned to the humans, peeling back the layers that made them so much more entertaining than anything else on the planet. But further inspection had proven to be a waste. They were about as intelligent as the Arrancars, believing themselves to be superior, even in comparison to one another. It would do to say that their pride and lust for power was what brought about war after war.

It was no wonder entire races had dropped off the planet during the history of man.

Sadly, that was what had driven him to this. Unrelenting boredom. There was little to toy with in the Soul Society, as testing people without their consent was, for whatever reason, "illegal." So there would be an infringement or two upon the rights of free agency. Or perhaps, side-effects that hadn't been seen ahead of time. Trifles, really. Nothing to get bent out-of-shape over.

These tests were, after all, what made development possible.

It was quiet, Akon's incessant yammering having died down only minutes before. Eleven minutes to midnight, to be exact. Yet, he was still strung out. Nothing seemed to be working anymore. Machinery was breaking down, mistakes were being made, and tests were throwing all manner of unprecedented results into his face.

He rolled his eyes, feeling that familiar presence lingering behind. There was silence, but he could feel the burning sensation of her gaze piercing the back of his skull. Had she wanted to, he was fairly certain that the woman could have gutted him for whatever mistake she'd found in his practice.

"What is it _this _time?" It was a hiss, dangerous and barely above a whisper. He wanted her to know that this wasn't the time; that he didn't give a damn about her complaints.

She brushed past him, eyes widening a bit at first. He really didn't care that he looked a mess, paint smearing into a cold gray color across his face. She'd already seen him, so there wasn't any point in turning away. Her recovery was swift, and she scowled. A useless thing in light of his mood, but it had been proven to be quite the effective tactic when needed.

"A strange question," the woman stated, fingers curled around a file, "as you appear to be the one responsible for drug trials being run out of the third laboratory."

As if that wasn't obvious. As captain, he was in charge and, accordingly, "responsible," for every damned thing that went on within the division. While the former had kept him sated, the latter had never been too appealing. It was looking even more detestable now.

"You're overreacting." The paperwork was likely in regards to something she believed he'd done. Well, something he'd most likely done. "It was informed consent. I didn't give him anything he hadn't already agreed to. In fact, _I_ didn't even give it to him."

Although it was the truth, she didn't seem to be satisfied with that at all. That's what her problem was. She wanted truth, insisted upon it, yet, when she received it, she still felt the need to determine whether or not it was fact. So, why even bother if it was never good enough?

Women didn't make any sense at all.

"You developed the drug."

Mayuri shrugged, grimacing at her. "Then I'm _indirectly_ responsible. I assure you, there _is_ a difference."

"Responsibility is responsibility, Captain," she said, crossing her arms. "And I strongly suggest that you test your theories and drugs in more humane ways before administering doses of any kind in the future. That way, we don't have problems and inconveniences like this one."

As obviously irritated as she was, the woman was doing it again. She was smiling.

Why the hell did things always end up that way? Every time she found some problem with his tests, she'd show up with that disconcerting smile on her face. Now, he was damned sure that there wasn't quite so much pleasure in the world, and he imagined that Retsu Unohana, being one faced with all manner of gore, knew at least that much. Even that was giving her far more credit than she deserved. But the question was still left the same: Why the hell did she always smile?

There was very little that had this kind of an effect on him, but the idea of this woman wandering around the Seireitei with that smile on her face was rather... creepy. But, when she didn't, it seemed like everything was drained. She had that kind of mixed effect on people, the one wherein she could calm nerves, but turn around in time to freeze hell over.

She was a healer, which easily explained _why _she behaved as though nothing ever could, or should, go wrong. He'd seen enough of the living world to know that it was a part of that "do some good and change the world" mentality that human doctors walked around with. Talk about wearing a heart on one's sleeve.

That's what separated them. He could distinguish between hapless fiction and reality, leaving no room for the blurred line that seemed to go unnoticed. Unohana wasn't quite so fortunate.

"If it's so inconvenient, then why are you here? You could have easily waited until morning."

She straightened up, flipping through the file until the designated page was found. It was then turned, photographs facing him. To anyone unaccustomed to the results his tests produced, they were gruesome. So her newest patient was constantly bleeding due to being infected with some form of flesh-eating bacteria. Really, there were worse fates than that.

"The patient comes first," she said. "I don't organize my hospital rounds based upon what is and isn't interesting."

No, of course not. She dealt with the hopelessly mundane because they were just that. Easy, weakened, pitiful. How she'd lasted this long without something entertaining was entirely beyond him. But, then again, everything the two of them saw was different. This woman, this doctor, preferred to be sickeningly optimistic about everything and anything. Were a patient to be lying on his deathbed, she'd preach words of hope. He, on the other hand, preferred reality to her sorry little tales of hope and wonder. Were a subject to die, that's just how it was.

Mayuri wouldn't deny that there were a multitude of things that pushed him to the edge. But, without sifting through and organizing every damned irritant, it was clear that Retsu Unohana was the undisputed best in that field. The tiniest things about her, even the way she breathed while healing the wounded, was enough to boil his blood. There was something about this woman, about her very existence, that just baffled him.

And Mayuri hated when he couldn't figure things out.

"You shock me, really." It was cutting through the darkness again, that smile. "I can't quite figure you out."

Well, there was a surprise. The social, people-loving healer had an interest in pulling his head apart as well. She wanted to understand what drove him, what made this and that so important. Well, slaking her interest was the last thing on his list. If she wanted to turn him into a test subject, she'd be sorely disappointed.

"I _could _understand," she went on, "if you'd let me."

There she was, doing it all over again. He visibly cringed, withdrawing as she sought to touch him. He'd _hated_ every damned second she'd spent with her hands on him the last time, even if it had been for the purpose of healing. There was something about that touch that was electric, somewhere on the border between dangerous and obscene. Frankly, he'd always felt that physical contact was too far. A violation of s privacy, as it were.

Strangely, Retsu Unohana didn't seem to catch the vibe he was giving off; the threat in his gaze sending off heated sparks. Her hand moved, pushing fabric aside so as to set her eyes upon the mending she'd done the last time. But the way her face seemed to soften told a different story.

She hadn't come to lecture him about propriety or responsibility. She'd come for the purpose of checking up on a patient, which was the last thing he wanted to be.

He wanted nothing to do with this woman, but it seemed that, so long as his tests backfired, she'd keep coming back.


End file.
